


Follow Me To Sleep

by kuolettava (salainen)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Asexual Character, Multi, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2014-04-25
Packaged: 2018-01-20 17:35:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1519307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salainen/pseuds/kuolettava
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Willas pays a visit to his friend at Sunspear. There's attempted seduction, then some feelings.</p><p>For the kink meme!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Follow Me To Sleep

“Another letter from Highgarden, my love?” Ellaria asks him, sliding her arms around his shoulders to sneak a look at the message.

“Yes, it's only just arrived,” Oberyn replies, slitting open the green wax seal that holds it shut. “The maester practically ran across half of Sunspear to put it into my hands,” he chuckles, remembering the man's face. The servants and advisors of the castle know better than to get between Oberyn and his correspondence, especially those letters that come in from Willas Tyrell, his unlikely friend.

It's been seven years since he accidentally crippled the boy in their joust, and through the written word they've become the dearest of friends, writing to each other as quickly as the letters can come in. Oberyn considers himself on good terms with the raven that flies them back and forth. 

He and Ellaria read the letter together; it's mostly about Willas' life at Highgarden, breeding horses and complaining about his younger siblings. “He sounds bored,” Ellaria notes.

“You are just saying that because you would be,” Oberyn says.

She smiles. “You know me so well. Still, I think we should help him.”

“What were you thinking, sweetling?”

“We should have him here, at Sunspear. At least if you two are going to talk horses and annoying brothers, you should do it together, surrounded by beauty.”

Oberyn kisses her hand. “I'm sure we will find something more interesting to do together,” he says, a sly look crossing his face.

“Remember, my love, only if I can come too.”

“Always.”

* * *

It takes several more letters and three turns of the moon before Willas arrives at Sunspear, accompanied by a handful of guards. Oberyn isn't pleased about having to put up men of the Reach who aren't Willas, but he will make concessions where his friend is concerned.

“Welcome to Dorne,” he calls as Willas, with the help of his guards, dismounts from his horse. It's the sand steed Oberyn had sent to him a few years before, and the sight makes him smile. 

“My thanks, Prince Oberyn,” he says, bowing as well as he can with his hand on a cane. When he tilts his face up again, Oberyn can see that he's already burnt from the strong Dornish sun and makes a note to have the maester give him something for it. 

“'Prince'? Come now, Willas, we're old friends. Oberyn will do.”

Willas shuffles awkwardly on the spot for a moment. “I suppose you're right. It's just been so long since I've seen you in person.”

“Yes, it has been too long. But with the bad blood between Dorne and the Reach, it is not surprising.”

“No,” Willas agrees. “It's not.”

“Enough of this. You should come inside, change your clothes, meet my paramour. I don't believe you met Ellaria when we were last together.”

“I don't think so, but I _had_ been drinking a lot of milk of the poppy.”

Oberyn laughs at that, glad his friend is willing to joke about his injury. He's done so in a few of his letters, but Oberyn has often found that letters and the truth of a person differ. “She is a wonderful woman, and a great admirer of yours.”

Willas goes even redder under his sunburn. “Admirer? We've never met!”

“Ah, but she has read your letters. There are no secrets between me and Ellaria.”

It takes a few moments for the eyes to adjust from the harsh sunlight to the cool shade of Sunspear's interior, so the two of them stand in the entryway of the castle for a few moments, blinking until they can see again.

“I'll take you to your quarters,” Oberyn says, “and let you rest up from your journey.”

“Thank you, Oberyn. I'm not used to the heat, and I'm sure I smell horrific at this point. Not the kind of impression I'd like to leave on Lady Ellaria.”

“She is a broad-minded woman. Though she might not take kindly to you calling her 'Lady'.”

Willas grimaces briefly. “I will be sure to remember that.”

When Willas returns from his chambers, he's changed clothes and washed up, and he looks much better for it, despite his red face. He's even dressed appropriately for the weather, which Oberyn finds surprising; Northerners are always conducting their visits to Dorne in their wool and leather, and more than once he's had to ring for guardsmen to carry fainted dignitaries out of his solar or Doran's.

“Now that you're feeling better, would you like something for your face?”

“My face? What's wrong with it?” Willas claps his free hand to his face, then winces. “I see what you mean. If it's not too much trouble, I could probably use something.”

Oberyn rings for the maester and explains, and the man bustles away with promises of a salve for later.

“And now that _that's_ out of the way, time to meet Ellaria.” He takes Willas' free arm in his and walks him upstairs and out to one of the balconies, where Ellaria is sitting at a cyvasse board.

“Welcome, Lord Willas,” she says, standing. “How was your journey?”

“Hot, but largely pleasant,” Willas says. “No need to stand on my account. Gods know I can't stand long.”

Ellaria chuckles at that, a soft, beautiful sound. “Then I will be seated. You're just as amusing in person as in your letters, Willas.”

He smiles crookedly at the compliment. “I do write all the japes myself.”

“Would you like to sit down? I was in the mood for cyvasse, and I know you play.”

“I would love to,” he says, lowering himself into the chair across from her. “But you should know I may not pose much of a challenge; the only person in the family I've ever beaten is Loras.”

Minutes later, he's knocked over her last tower. “Admittedly, my family is _very_ good.”

“Devious,” she says, smiling. “I like this one.”

* * *

The visit is lazy and casual, mostly spent lounging around Sunspear in each other's company. Part of this is because of Willas' leg – the sands surrounding the castle are not condusive to him walking comfortably – but it's also because there's little else they would rather be doing. Despite having never even written to her, Willas and Ellaria get along like old friends, their quieter natures bringing them together in contrast to Oberyn's bolder personality. 

They eat together, play cyvasse together, and talk about everything and nothing for hours at a time. Willas meets the rest of the Martells, most of whom are civil but cold to him, which he takes with good grace. It's been two weeks since Willas came to Dorne and he will be leaving soon; Oberyn and Ellaria have a long conversation one night, when their guest is in his own chambers, and decide it's worth the risk to ask him.

“Willas,” Oberyn says over dinner that night, the three of them alone in his solar, “we have a proposition for you.”

Willas' hand stops halfway to his mouth. He puts his food down. “Oh?”

“Yes. We were wondering if you might like ...to come to bed with us. Tonight.”

“Or any night before you leave,” Ellaria corrects. “We would not want to pressure you.”

He looks stunned, his no-longer-burnt face turning white, then red again. “I had been hoping you wouldn't ask me that,” Willas says after a pause.

“Ah, typical Northerners,” Oberyn says, playfully. “I should have known you couldn't be all good.”

“It's not that I don't like you. Both of you. Because I do, very much. But there is a reason beyond my leg that I haven't married yet.”

Both Oberyn and Ellaria lean forward at that, interested in the gossip. “What is that, my friend?”

“I ...don't wish to... bed anyone,” he says carefully. “I know I will have to, one day, but I am putting it off until the last possible moment. Is that strange?”

“Mayhaps to me,” Oberyn says, “but if the gods can make those such as me, they would make such as you.”

Willas looks relieved, his whole posture relaxing. “Thank you. I have never spoken of it except to my brother Garlan, and even he was confused by the idea.

“We Dornishmen are much less concerned with who one chooses to spend his time with, or how. Even if for some reason he doesn't wish to spend that kind of time at all.”

“Yes, yes, Oberyn, he gets that you enjoy bedding people, you do not need to keep on it that way.”

“My apologies, sweetling. And to you as well, Willas.”

“There's nothing to apologize for,” he says, smiling. He's even more handsome when he does, though it's rare for him to do so even when happy. Oberyn tucks the image away in his mind for after Willas is gone and he's reading his letters again.

“If you ever decide you really don't want to wed some lord's daughter, you're always welcome to run away to Sunspear,” Oberyn offers.

“Thank you,” Willas says, laughing softly. “But I have duties, and even Sunspear is too close where my grandmother is involved.”

Oberyn considers. “We have contacts in the Free Cities.”

“I'm going to miss you when I leave,” Willas says, suddenly. “I will have to have you to Highgarden one day.”

“Would we truly be welcome there?” Ellaria asks, sounding unconvinced.

“It may have to wait until the castle is mine. But you might have better luck with Loras,” he says, laughing again.

“And earn the wroth of Renly Baratheon? I think not. Besides, he is not _you_ , Willas.”

“I think,” he says, “if I were any other man, that would have worked on me.”

“A near miss,” Ellaria says, “but we like you the way you are, not as some other man.”

She leans across the table and leaves a gentle kiss on his lips, leaving him stunned. At Ellaria's gesture, Oberyn does the same. 

“Was that all right?” she asks. “I suppose I should have asked first.”

“No, it was... it was fine. Better than fine.”

Ellaria glances at Oberyn for a brief moment, then turns back to Willas. “We have a second proposition for you. It's no concern if you do not wish to come to our bed to fuck, but would you like to to sleep?”

“With you?”

Oberyn rolls his eyes. “No, just to feel the sheets for yourself, while we sleep in your room.”

“Don't be rude, Oberyn.” But Willas is smirking at the joke. He often seems gentle and surprised by the things they say, but beneath the surface is a sharpness that the both of them want to bring out.

“I would like that,” Willas says, taking Oberyn's sarcasm for confirmation. “Besides, it might be nice to have a scandalous story of my own for the next time my brothers are whispering to each other.”

Oberyn claps him on the shoulder. “I'll even write you a dirty letter next time, if you wish.”

“Please don't.”

**Author's Note:**

> I really need to come up with a real Willas headcanon because I write him differently every time he shows up in a fic.


End file.
